


Just Business

by Phobia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mobtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Underfell Sans (Undertale), everyone is an asshole basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 18:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phobia/pseuds/Phobia
Summary: ((It's only underfell characters, I am having difficulty with the tags lmao))You're a courier; you deliver dangerous stuff to dangerous people.But why did you expect things to not get dangerous for yourself?





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Violet Velveteen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609574) by [AlluraNice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlluraNice/pseuds/AlluraNice). 



After a long day of bussing tables, refilling countless coffee cups, and constantly mopping up dirty footprints caused by the heavy rain, you finally got to leave the diner. Shoes slapping on the ground as you made a swift run for your apartments, rain soaking itself into the pink fabric. Nobody was out at this time of night, the storm could be peaceful if you weren't in the middle of it, lightning striking a bit too close for comfort.

_'Dammit. Why do I have to work so far from home?'_

The front door of the apartment complex was locked, you fumbled for the keys, only being able to see what you were doing every time the lightning flashed. There weren't any street lights on this street, many thugs knocking them down to make muggings easier. They've been replaced before but they're never up longer than a week in neighborhoods like this. 

The neighborhoods were full of poor people and people hiding from mobs they've aggravated one, too many times.

You shuffled to the stairs, looking them up and down like you hadn't seen them a hundred times. 

_'If it was my choice, I would have had my room on the first floor, not the ninth. At least the red carpeting is nice to look at.'_

Finally getting to your room and slinking through the front door, you finally got to take a breather. The familiar vanilla scent of the apartment having a calming feeling over you. Even the cracks in the wall, the familiarity of them making the apartment feel homey opposed to the 12-hour shift at Grub N' Stuff Diner. 

You propped your feet up onto your desk, lazily scrunching your body to turn the radio down as you mulled about the possibilities of your next package to deliver. How would you dress? How would you act? Where would you meet?

Three soft taps on the door brought you out of your questioning, you made your way to the door. You didn't bother checking the peephole before opening the door, knowing whoever left the packages was always long gone before you could get there fast enough. You checked down the apartment hallway, despite knowing nobody would be out at this hour before picking up the letter.

You hummed in contemplation. They usually left boxes, not letters. You retreated back into your apartment, flipping the closed paper around in your hands. The waterlogged envelope was dirtied by muddy gloves, ink seeping through to the back. You set the paper under your lamp, waiting for the front to dry before reading the neat handwriting. 

_402 Windrush Street, Five PM, Tomorrow. Don't be late._ A chill almost shook you, but you suppressed it. You rubbed your arm, the warmth comforting.

Courier work was dangerous work, but you didn't listen to the warnings before taking the job. Of course, you didn't just go out and tell anybody. Not your friends or family, you could not let even a sliver of a chance for the wrong person to find out what you are doing. That's why you always dress differently, always meet up somewhere new, always act differently to evade the suspicions of people who look twice.

You yawned, arms stretching up over your head as your back popped. It was already 3 am, leaving you 14 hours to sleep, prepare, and arrive. You rubbed your eyes, mascara smudging darkly under them as you wrapped yourself up in bed, the old, creaky boxspring barely bothering you as you drifted off to sleep.

*****

Even though you woke up groggily to the sun shining directly into your eyes, you still had some pep in your step. Making your way through your one-room apartment, you side-eyed the clock. _1:26 pm._ Hey, you weren't upset with the time you woke up! Yesterday you almost slept the entire morning away, the weekends being the only time you had off.

You fired up the stove and clicked on the radio. Cracking three eggs into a pan and clicking bread down in the toaster. The radio buzzed with news of the latest attacks in the city. 

"-and yet another day goes by where the perpetrators are yet to be found. More and more gangs are moving in on the area, it's dangerous to walk the streets, especially today where we've hit a record high of murders committed before dinner," The informal informant gave a nervous chuckle and you flipped your eggs, "But, if you don't want to heed my warnings, then good luck to you. I would like to stop making these reports now,"

His voice trailed off at the end before the news shut off and was replaced by sponsors. 

_'Tsk, that poor guy, he seemed so wracked with grief, I wonder if he lost someone today...'_

You buttered your toast and peppered the eggs. You slowed your movements as you drifted to deep thought.

_'I-I don't want to end up another dead girl. Another person at the wrong place at the wrong time.'_

But it's not like it was exactly avoidable. Making a run on one of the most violent days ever. It's almost like fate was going out of her way to make today as dangerous as possible. The sponsors eventually ended and the news flicked back on, to a survivor describing how he managed to make it out alive.

"So, I was just out minding my own business, before I was sliced at by a cloaked figure! I wasn't able to see what they looked like, but I'm sure it's one of those monster _freaks_ that popped up a few weeks ago. That body shape was definitely not human..." The reporters went on to talk about how the uprising of monsters could have led to an increase in attacks. 

_'I haven't even seen a monster around yet.'_

The reporters went into describing the attacks in more detail, and how they could tell there was a high probability most of these attacks were committed by monsters.

"Fuckin' fear-mongering if you ask me," There's been nonstop anti-monster propaganda ever since they surfaced and it was starting to get on your nerves. Maybe there was a chance you'd believe it if it wasn't every damn day they went on and on and on about how dangerous they are. Humans put them down there in the first place, you're all on even footing. 

You huffed, moving to the shower. The rusted metal of the showerhead barely having any pressure. Other tenants must have already gone through all the hot water this morning, no matter how long you waited it never got warm. You scrubbed yourself down with the nicest smelling soap you owned, the cutesy look seemed best for the day, in case you had to flirt your way out of a deadly situation. But it was never fun doing it that way so maybe if you just appeared innocent, nobody would try to kill you.

_'Though I shouldn't get my hopes up.'_

Your reflection appeared in the cracked mirror, a tired frown stretched on your face not letting up. 

You hurried along with the mascara, powdering at the dark bags that are just threatening to get darker. You touched up your lips with a cute pink gloss, the shine making them pop. 

You smiled big in the mirror. 

_'Cute enough to get tipped this time I hope.'_

*****

It was beautiful outside, the sun showed brightly down on the street, warming your face and dress. Tightly tucking the letter into your handbag as your kitten heels clicked on the street. 

_'402 Windrush Street, 402 Windrush street, 402...'_

You found the street you were supposed to be at, and even at a quick glance, your stomach dropped. 

"Fuck," Your heartbeat loud in your ears as you stood there. This was the street most of the murders happened on, "It always has to be gang territory, damned if I do, damned if I don't. C'mon, I can do it," The street was a dead-end, so no traffic would be coming through at all. Nobody to save you from your demise.

You glided down to two houses labeled "401" and "403", and by chance, you glanced down the alleyway, noticing a large hanging sign above a door labeled "402" in scrawled numbers. Confidently, you walked down the alley and stood in front of the door and without missing a beat, rapped on the door. 

A large man quickly whipped the door open, as if he was expecting your presence. 

"Get in. Yer late," _Tsk, by three minutes._

You followed close behind him, studying the area around you. 

Dusty crates lined the outskirts of the room and littered the middle of it, making what was coming up ahead hard to see, even though the room was already pitch black, save for the small flickering candle far behind the aforementioned crates. You tried not to sneeze as thick layers of dust bombarded your nose, they clearly weren't planning on being here very long. 

You finally got to a little desk with the Boss. The Boss of the Suggins' gang. Your stomach squeezed as you were pushed into the tiny chair facing him. 

"Straight to business," His voice was rough and gravely, "I want da' letta," He pointed his lit cigar right at you. 

"Yes, of course," You said calmly, if you didn't comply, they'd surely kill you. They were all fighting for dominance within the group, show even the tiniest bit of tolerance and he would be knocked out of his high ranking position. 

You handed him the letter, the envelope wavy from being soaked earlier. He cut it open, inspecting it.

"What da' FUCK is this, some sort a' joke?" He spat, gesturing at the unreadable inky mess. 

"It was drenched when they gave it to me, sorry for the inconvenience, " You kept your cool, even though your heart was _definitely_ beating faster than it should. 

The Boss sucked in a deep breath of the cigar, letting the flavor linger before blowing it out.

"Alright, Doll. I understand this wasn't your fault. Charlie, Boone?" He snapped his fingers in the air dramatically, "Show this girl out, would ya'? Through da' back door this time," They said nothing before hoisting you up by the armpits, each man on either side, dragging you to the back room. 

When they finally let you down you lightly skipped away, glad to be set down. You made a move for the door in the back, jiggling the handle just to notice it was locked. You were about to ask them if they had the keys before one of them piped up.

"Really sorry about this, Miss," 

_Oh, that made you freeze in your tracks._

You whipped around to see the larger man holding a pistol up to your head.

_Then he cocked it._

"WAIT, wait wait wait wait, this isn't **fair,** " Your heart hammered in its cage.

"Nothin' in life is, Dolly,"

"At least let me fight back!" The men seemed to ponder this for a second, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for him to pull the trigger anyway.

Then he holstered his weapon and bent down into a wrestlers stance. 

"Well? come and get me then," You stated with a cheeky smirk. His face immediately became irate as he charged at you. A tear dripped down your cheek, the pressure getting to you.

His stomps brought you out of your stupor, you dodged, letting him brush past you, sticky fingers nimbly grabbing the gun from its holster before shooting the other man standing idle. 

**Bang.**

He dropped like a fly.

"Oops," You said in a ditzy voice while turning to look at the man that made the mistake of giving you the upper hand. He was dumbfounded at his stupidity. Too bad this poor guy won't live long enough to learn from his mistake. 

**Click.**

**...**

**Click. Click. Click.**

**...**

_**Shit.** _

The man that was once below you now held you up by your neck.

"You're lucky I've never liked Charlie," He spat.

"You must be Boo--" _Wheeze_

_His hand got tighter by the second._

Then you had a eureka moment. You only shot the gun five times. There are six bullets in one round.

_Click._

**Bang.**

The big fella, Boone, dropped to the ground with a thud. The hole in his head bleeding out partially onto you as you slid out from under his weight. You quickly checked his pockets for keys, leaving the empty gun and making a mad dash for the door. ~~~~

_"Oh no. MIKEY! IT-ITS CHARLIE, WE-WE GOTTA HELP HIM!"_

~~_You wish you could say you didn't look back_ ~~

You were already in the street and sprinting back home, noticing the men clambering out of the small door after you. All shoving at each other, eager to maim you first. 

_Shit, I'm gonna have to take a long way home, I don't want them finding out where I live!_

They were shooting at you, the bullets mostly missing but the sound of them grazing past your ear making your heart pound. Excitement rushing through you as they struggled to hit your moving form. You almost let out a crazed chuckle before a searing hot pain belted across the edge of your arm, bringing you back down to earth. 

You struggled to not give up, hand tight around your arm in a feeble attempt to keep the blood in. 

The sun was starting to go down and you needed to get home, it was life or death. 

You jumped over the alleyway fences and knocked over trash cans, slowing down your assailants. You ran around a sharp corner and there you were, at the apartments. By this time, it was pitch black outside, you were almost thankful the streetlights weren't up to show your position as you wormed your way through the door and up to your room. 

You nursed the gushing wound in the bathroom, stitching it quickly. Each puncture had you closer and closer to crying out in pain. 

"FUCK!" You wailed, tight grip on the needle and thread, pulling it harder to close the seam. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you came out of the bathroom still holding your arm and moving to flop on the bed. 

_Little did you know the hell that awaited you._

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys catch that John Mulaney reference?


End file.
